


Blowing Off Steam Part III

by chadillacboseman



Series: Blowing Off Steam [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29334024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadillacboseman/pseuds/chadillacboseman
Relationships: Axe Woves/Reader
Series: Blowing Off Steam [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151747
Kudos: 5





	Blowing Off Steam Part III

Your eyes open with a flutter, and it takes a moment for them to adjust enough to remember where you are. With a jolt, you realize you aren’t alone in the bed, and then it all comes back to you- again you had succumbed to the charm of the Mandalorian. But this time was different. This time, he had asked you to stay, and like a fool you had done it. Axe was still fast asleep next to you, his bare chest rising and falling slowly with each breath.

Sunlight filtered in through the observation window, high enough to indicate that you had slept much longer than you should have. Careful not to disturb the slumbering Mandalorian, you rose from the bed and fumbled for your clothes on the floor. You shrugged on your shirt and began searching for your boots, feeling a headache forming from last night’s alcohol and the bright sunlight.

“Leaving me already?” Axe’s voice makes you jump, and you spin on your heel to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an eyebrow cocked. Your face grows warm as he watches you, awaiting an answer, “No…” you pause, trying to avoid his eyes, “just getting dressed.” He chuckles and rises from the bed, moving to find his own clothes on the floor.

“Thank you…for letting me stay the night,” you try not to look at him as you speak, knowing that your embarrassment will shine like a beacon if your eyes meet his. “It would have been a little rude to let you trek back to the city in the middle of the night while you were drunk,” your head snaps up at this response. “I wasn’t drunk!” you cry, exasperated. Axe laughs and mimics staggering, his face contorted in a cross-eyed expression. You shove him and he stumbles back a step, his face still split in a boyish grin. “I was not drunk, Woves,” you snap, still glaring at him. “Well, that’s a relief. I was starting to think you had to be off your ass to sleep with me.” You huff, but can’t for the life of you find the words to retort.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off of the Mandalorian as he dresses- the way his arms flex as he pulls his undershirt over his head nearly puts you in a trance. “I’d ask if you see something you like, but I think I already know the answer to that,” his voice snaps you out of your entranced gaze and you feel your face grow warm again. “At least let me walk you back to your place,” the cockiness is gone from his voice now, replaced by something else that you can’t quite place. “Will you let me do that?” You consider him for a moment before sighing and conceding.

–

You feel safe next to Axe as he walks with you back into the city; his armor alone makes anyone you meet give the two of you a wide berth. It suddenly occurs to you that you likely look like a bounty he’s escorting, which, when you consider it, is favorable to the alternative of them knowing that you are essentially on a walk of shame.

Your place isn’t much- a small apartment in a single level building in the heart of the city. The building is home primarily to transient dock workers and a few permanent transplants like yourself. You silently thank the maker that none of your neighbors are outside when you arrive at your door. You fumble to find your key chip in your pockets and hold it to the reader before pushing the door open. You stand in the doorway and turn to face Axe, unsure of how to thank him. He simply tilts his helmet in a nod and you hear a slight chuckle filter through his vocoder, “See you around.”

–

A hot shower and clean clothes have never felt so good, of that you are certain. You have never been so thankful for a few days off of work- a great opportunity to sleep off your hangover and recover in peace. As you lie in your bed, it’s difficult to keep Axe off of your mind. The ease with which you think of him annoys you; you sleep with a guy twice and suddenly he’s all you can think about? You scoff aloud to no one, but nagging thoughts of the Mandalorian continue to persist in the back of your mind, even as you drift into a midday nap.

When you wake, the sun is setting and stray rays of orange light filter in through the shuttered windows in your bedroom. You rise slowly and stretch, savoring the gentle pull on your sore muscles. You feel your stomach growl, and remember with a groan that you have yet to visit the market and restock your groceries this week. Not one to deny your stomach its needs, you throw on your jacket and head out to the inn, hoping for a hot bowl of stew. As you exit, you retrieve your blaster from the drawer by the door and quickly holster it in your belt. If there was one thing your transplant life had taught you, it was to always be prepared.

The streets are quiet, which is unusual for Trask, even at night. When you round the corner to the port, you realize why- an Imperial cruiser is docked and the street is flanked by storm troopers. You feel your heart leap into your throat as you duck behind a stack of shipping crates, cursing yourself for ever leaving your apartment. There is a commotion inside the inn before an officer exits; behind him, two troopers are pushing civilians out at gunpoint, and shove them to their knees on the street.

Your hand finds your blaster as you scan to quickly count the troopers outside the inn. Twenty-five, not counting the officer or the two pointing guns at the civilians. You recognize one of the civilians- the human bartender you so often bantered with. The other is a mon calamari you haven’t seen before. The officer is speaking, but you can’t make out what he is saying. The mon calamari responds, and a trooper strikes him in the face with his blaster, sending him crumpling to the ground.

There was no way you could take them on yourself- you wouldn’t have a tauntaun’s chance on Tatooine against all of those Imps. The human bartender was speaking now, and your heart sank when you heard the word “Mandalorian”. You swore silently and retreated into the dark alley behind you. Clearly these troopers were here in response to the freighter they’d lost, and Axe Woves was going to be their top target.

Once you are out of earshot you break into a sprint, headed for the city gate. When the trooper’s arm catches you in the chest it practically knocks the wind out of you. You fall to the concrete, gasping, as the white armor comes into your view. You make a reach for your blaster and feel a boot come down, hard, on the top of your hand. You let out a yelp of pain and try to pull your hand away as the trooper reaches down to pull the blaster from your belt. You hear the crackle of a comm unit, and the trooper speaks, “I’ve got a runner down the west alleyway. Armed with a blaster.” A voice, likely that of the officer, crackles back, “Bring them here.”

You feel a hand on the back of your jacket that wrenches you to your feet, and the cold metal of a blaster presses into the small of your back. “Get moving” the trooper spits, jabbing the blaster, hard, into your skin. Predictably, he brings you to the street in front of the inn, and shoves you to your knees beside the mon calamari, who is back upright, but bleeding profusely from a cut above his eye. The officer approaches you- his suit is covered in Imp badges and medals, no doubt a testament to his effectiveness.

“Is this the one you told me about?” he’s asking the human, who quickly glances at you, then nods. You make a note to never trust another bartender again. The officer turns his attention to you, “Where is the Mandalorian?” You make up your mind right then and there- this man is getting nothing from you. You shrug, trying to keep your face neutral. The butt of the blaster catches you off guard as it strikes your face. Searing pain rockets through your skull and you crash to the pavement, unable to catch yourself. “I will ask you again,” the officer is on one knee next to you, “Where is the Mandalorian?”

“Right here, hu’tuun.” The officer jerks to his feet and turns. Your vision swims slightly, but there’s no mistaking the blue armor- Axe Woves is standing in the street, once again flanked by his companions. You clench your eyes shut as blaster fire rains down around you, and you feel bodies hit the pavement nearby. There is a rushing sound, like a ship’s thruster, and you feel yourself being lifted from the ground, an armored arm wrapped around you. You glance up to find yourself staring into Axe’s visor, and you can’t help but push yourself against him, despite the cold, hard beskar between you.

“Let’s get you out of here,” even the vocoder can’t hide the emotion in his voice. As he engages his jetpack, you glance back to see one of his companions put a blaster to the officer’s head. The other is entering the cruiser, and you smile knowing that the Imps have one less ship, and now, one less officer.

Axe lands rather gracefully outside your door; you expect him to set you on your feet, but he keeps you held tight to his chest. “Unlock the door,” you do so without argument, and he carries you over the threshold. Only once the door is sealed does he move to set you on your feet. Your legs shake, but you manage to stand upright, at least for now.

The Mandalorian removes his helmet with a quiet pneumatic hiss, and tosses it to the floor. You feel a little hysterical as you fumble your words to thank him, “Axe, thank you so much. If you hadn’t showed up when-” his mouth on yours cuts you off and takes you by surprise. It’s a desperate kiss, his stubble rough against your skin, and his gloved hand tangling in your hair. When he pulls away, his eyes don’t leave yours as he speaks, “How is your head?” he pulls one of his gloves off and gently touches the spot where the metal connected. “Killing me,” you reach your own hand to your face and feel dried blood beneath your fingers. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Before you can argue, the Mandalorian lifts you off your feet and carries you to your bedroom, where he gently sets you on the bed.

He exits the room and you search your drawers for clean clothes, quickly pulling them on and tossing your bloodied garments in the hamper.

When Axe returns, he has a small towel and a bowl of water. He takes a seat next to you on the bed and dips the towel into the water, moving to gently wipe the blood from your face. You put your hand over his to still it, “You don’t have to do this-” he brushes your hand aside and continues to mop the blood away. “And you didn’t have to defy an imperial officer to try and protect me,” your face heats at these words.

The two of you sit in silence as Axe cleans your face gently. When he finishes, he sets the bowl and towel aside and turns his attention back to you. You search his face, trying to decode his expression, but it’s unreadable. It’s a moment before he speaks, his voice is even, but brimming with emotion. “Mesh'la,” his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip and his eyes bore into yours, “When you stayed with me last night, I wanted to tell you how I felt.” He pauses, searching for the words, “I planned to find you again at the bar. To really get to know you.” You can only stare at him, taking in his features- was he blushing?

You wanted to tell him that you felt the same- that he had been on your mind every moment you were apart- but the words just wouldn’t come to you. Instead, you simply pulled him into a hug, ignoring the hard Beskar between you. You felt his arms wrap around you, and he sighed contentedly. For a few moments, there was just this- the two of you, embracing there on the bed. When you finally pulled away, the Mandalorian was smiling, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“Rest, mesh'la,” Axe’s voice is gentle as he brushes the hair from your face, “tomorrow, I’ll find you at the inn.”


End file.
